Red and Green
by Dusked
Summary: She was red, and he was green - the nicknames they'd given each other at a mere age before they'd parted. And now, years later, and unbeknownst to him, he sees her again, but not in the way he could've ever dreamed of. One-shot, AU-EWE. Draco x Hermione - Tragedy/Hurt-Comfort. Smut.


**AUTHOR'S NOTES: **

**This fanfic sort of side-tracked me from all my other planned fics, but I couldn't resist writing it first. Some may not like this, and you'll obviously see why, but nonetheless, I hope you try and enjoy it. Personally, I do not think it is my best work, and it is quite short, but if I had not written it, I would've regretted it. **

**Also, given the plot of this story, it is AU – Draco and Hermione had NO interaction during their Hogwart years 1-6, though he was aware of her background, (and still held the prejudiced opinion), just as she was aware of his background. **

**Thank you to my betas': _RoseWeasley3 and __Mrs. Milfoy._**

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**Disclaimer: **The rights to _Harry Potter_ are in the ownership of J.K Rowling and Warner Bros. This fanfic has only been written for fun, and other readers/writers entertainment.

**Rating: **K+/PG.

**Warning(s): **Minor/mild language.

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_**RED AND GREEN**_

_**By: Dusked** _

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**July, 1988**

The grass beneath her bare feet was the most exquisite thing the nine-year old girl had ever felt.

A light breeze weaving through her fine strands, the warmth of midday sun kissing the exposed skin of her arms, and finally, the green blades brushing in-between her toes vanished the surrounding world, and instead inspirited the air with freedom and utter bliss.

Strange – to feel alive from something so simple.

**... **

In the far distance, he saw her, crossed-legged with a dimpled smile as she read what looked like a heavy, leather book.

For as long as his small mind could remember, he'd visited this field with his parents – usually from a lot of persuasion, as a boy Draco's age would rather be riding brooms than stroll around what was basically a bloody enlarged garden – and it was like a rare tradition that the Malfoy's would share only few times a year.

One that he would surely have to continue as he approached adulthood. _Bugger_.

Even with his growing hatred of the tradition, however, seeing the girl yards away annoyed him; this was _his _field, not hers. Not anyone's. He'd not seen any other people on this land before, not while he was there. At times, his parents would even say he owned the place, and he _never _gave any exceptions. It was _his. _

And then, he was marching across to her, his back straight and eyes set. As he neared, her appearance became clear and more distinct; what looked like a ratty bird's nest sat twisted on her head, and as she smiled, he noted she had buck-teeth, much like a chipmunk. Thank Gods Draco's teeth weren't like that, a Malfoy had been taught to take care of their teeth. By the time he was looming over her – despite being barely four and a half foot – she hadn't looked up, too busy with whatever nonsense she was engrossed in.

"You shouldn't be here," he stated bluntly, and he expected for her to jump, or at least twitch, but she did neither and instead looked up at him with big, doe-like eyes that were a dark brown. When she didn't answer, he asked impatiently, "Why are you here?"

She returned to her book, but replied with a shrug, "Reading."

Resisting the urge to growl in frustration – he never was good with patience, and people who seemed to misunderstand a straightforward question – and said through gritted teeth, "I didn't ask what you were _doing, _I asked _why you are here._"

"I like open spaces," she said. "It's peaceful."

Oh God, she was one of _those_; his mother was the same, finding the outside and nature a calming scene. Draco, on the other hand, found it boring. That was nothing 'peaceful' about mud, squawking birds and crusty, brown leaves.

He noticed another thing then, as he looked down at her feet and saw they were naked. Frowning, he snorted with irrepressible distaste. "Where are your shoes?"

"You ask a lot of questions, don't you?" She snapped her book shut, and looked up at him again. "If you must know, I like to walk around on the grass without shoes."

He frowned, and folded his arms. "That's very..._odd._"

A small smile curved the corner of her lips, as if she was challenging him, and she leant back on her palms, her head falling back and eyes closed. In the light, her hair didn't look so bad, spilling down her shoulders and highlighted from the reflection of the sun. "No, not odd," she murmured. "Eccentric, maybe."

_Eccentric? _Damn, she was smarter than he'd believed. Most girls' as young as her wouldn't known the meaning of the word, let alone pronounce it as clearly as she had. She was nearly as smart as him. His education had been more than an average student, as he was readying himself for the beginning of wizarding school. Of course he knew he was a wizard, his father had been the one to inform him, taking pride in the fact his son would become a magnificent wizard. From the book this girl was reading – _Pride and Prejudice _– one he had never heard in his world, that she must be a Muggle. Surprisingly, the thought didn't affect him, regardless of his father's continuous, low opinion of non-magical people.

"What's your name?" he heard himself blurt; he hadn't meant to converse with her any further, but apparently his planned course had chosen a different path.

Her right lid cracked open, eyeing him warily. She sniffed. "I don't tell strangers my name," she said before closing her eyes again, absorbing the dusky warmth. "What's yours?"

"If you're not going to tell me yours, I'm not telling you mine."

She sat up then, and cocked her head to the side. "What about we use nicknames, then?" she suggested before roaming over his form, stopping at his hand where his emerald, serpent ring sat. "You can be Green, okay? And I'll be Red." At which she pointed to the red bow he hadn't noticed before that was wrapped in her hair.

Rolling his eyes, he sighed, "Whatever."

It fazed him that she hadn't reacted to his rude attitude, or from what he could trace on her expression. He caught the slight crinkle in her brow, but it smoothed out before he could identify what it exactly meant. She brushed a stray hair from her face. "Are you here alone?"

"No, Father is here, too."

Partially true – he was around here somewhere, but both had wandered off in their own directions, and that was how Draco ended up here. He wasn't worried, as it had happened plenty of times before when his mother hadn't joined them. Each time they reunited the blame was all loaded onto him, and that he had 'run off' without permission. Rubbish.

"Father?" she asked, confused. "Don't you call him Dad?"

He bowed his head, a heat blotching his cheeks. _Embarrassed? _He was actually _embarrassed. _Scratching the back of his neck, he mumbled, "Father doesn't like the word. He finds it impolite."

"Do you want to call him Dad?"

To be honest, he did sometimes. It felt a whole lot more natural and _normal, _he didn't really like how formal his family was. So far, his childhood wasn't what he'd call rememberable, if it was, it would be for all the wrong reasons. "It wouldn't matter if I did. If Father orders me to do something, I do it."

She hummed in acknowledgment, but remained silent for a moment, and he became anxious as to what she may be thinking. In a matter of a few minutes, he had told her things he hadn't intended to tell her, but the words had flowed easily from his mouth, and he couldn't stop it – for some reason, he didn't want to. "Does your father always order you around?"

He jerked, not only from how she'd used the word 'father', but at the sheer invading contents of the question. Nonetheless, he still answered in a bare whisper, "Yes."

"Do you like it?"

Shaking his head, he locked gazes with her. "No."

What she did next caused him to jump again, as she leant over and laid a hand on his shoulder. He saw that she was smiling, a sparkling of shards chipped her eyes from what he didn't think was from the light this time. "You know, Green, what your Father tells you, isn't always right."

From that moment on, he'd remember her for what she'd said and the lingering touch on his clothed skin, but he knew, as soon as they had parted, he would never see her again.

**... **

**March, 1998 **

"_Where is she, Lucius?" _his Aunt screamed in his father's face, spit splatting the air. "_You had one job to do, and you cannot even do _that _right! You should be thankful The Dark Lord isn't here, he'd waste no time in cutting off your bollocks and force-feeding them to you! Now, GO AND FIND HER!" _

A few moments before, the urgent message of Granger somehow breaking through her cell wards and apparating – not very far, as a strong barricade of spells lined their house – had roused, and now a search party was underway. Inwardly, Draco was impressed, only an extremely skilled witch or wizard would be able to break through walls like that without a wand. She must've exhausted herself from the hard effort.

He concealed the small twitch of his mouth by quickly spinning around, and headed off into the one place he could bear exploring – the garden.

**... **

Within taking a step outside, he found her, and a gasp flittered past his lips from the sight.

She wasn't running, wasn't even trying to formulate an escape; she was just..._standing_ there, the weak sun rays ghosting over her flesh, and she was looking up, eyes closed. And she smiled. Actually smiled – in a place like this that was dead, all life sucked into a hole like a dementor, but she was _there, _glowing and emitting so much joy and delight, even with her dirtied skin or haggard figure. He never would've thought she'd been locked up as a prisoner for months on end. She was a broken, wounded angel.

Slowly, she then turned to him, as if she'd sensed he was there, and said, "Do you remember, Green?"

And that was when it hit him; the flashbacks slammed his mind, that little girl he'd met in the field and confided in. It was _her. _Hermione Granger, witch and Mudblood was that same little girl – _Red_ – and only now did he find her again, after almost ten years of wondering where she might be. And all this time, she'd been right in front of him. A look or breath away.

He went to move forward, but a screeched cackle sounded behind him, "Well done, Draco!"

Bile rose in his throat as his Aunt seized his arm, and his eyes stayed trained on Granger, as hers remained on his. And she seemed blind to her torturer, as she continued her sentence from where she'd left off. "You remember, Green, don't you? I'm not odd, but –"

"Eccentric, maybe," he finished without realising, and he swallowed, a strange lump crawling up his throat. It was then as if some impalpable sensation seized him, twining around him in tight, invisible vines.

She had tears in her eyes then. He didn't really understand why, but he did, too. Bellatrix then stepped forward, her wand drawn and pointed directly at Granger. She didn't flinch, didn't break eye contact with him. Not even when his Aunt threatened, "Better come back inside, Girly, or this won't end well for you."

Ignoring her, Granger took a step backwards. His voice was a foreign, strangled mess as it broke through dry lips. "Granger, don't –"

_"I_ _mean it, girl, take a another step, and you're dead!"_

"It's okay, Draco, It's _okay.__"_

And then she broke that order, just like he should've all these years. She was beautiful in that moment, even when she was basked in an explosion of the unforgivable's neon-green light, and she fell to the ground, her hair fanning into a golden halo around her head, but darkened with the sinking glassy look of death in her eyes.

**~ END ~**

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**Thank you to all those who read this fanfic. Again, it's not the best thing I've written, as it's quite fast-paced. Also, not much is explained as what happened between the years of 1988 & 1998, but I like the way it stands. You can use your imaginations to fill in the gaps. I hope it was good enough for you guys! Please, drop a review! **


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